The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

but Maggie could detect the pride in the way he said it. 'Seems like there's a lot of crap out there that needs a bloody big carpet to be swept under, and well, you can imagine why they want to get this one tidied up pronto. You know, before the tabloids sink their teeth into it.'

'And what did you say this guy was called?' Jimmy asked. 'Georgie?'

'Geordie. You know, a bit like Banksy. That street artist guy from Bristol.'

'I guess you're anxious to track him down,' Maggie said, 'assuming it is a him of course.'

Frank laughed. 'Aye, wee Eleanor pointed that out too. That it might not be a him I mean. But when our boys and girls do the psychological profiling in this sort of case, nine times out of ten it's a him we're looking for. Some spotty teenager with no mates, stuck in his bedroom with nothing else to do, that's my guess. But I'm sure we'll figure it all out soon enough. Eleanor's on the case, which is good news for me.'

Maggie nodded. 'Yeah, she's a clever lady. But anyway, how about we give talking shop a rest and have another drink instead? I could really do with one.'

'I'll go,' said Jimmy and Frank in unison, causing them to burst into laughter and then exchange a high-five. And then simultaneously they reached into a pocket and took out a coin, sparking further merriment.

'Best out of three then mate?' Jimmy said, winking at his brother. 'Heads or tails?'

Not for the first time, Maggie reflected how fortunate she had been that the Stewart brothers had come into her life just when she needed them the most. It was no exaggeration to say that Jimmy in particular had saved her life, and it was a debt she fully intended to repay.

And she was going to make a start by sending herself up to Lochmorehead to interview Mrs Alison Macallan, leaving Jimmy safely four hundred and fifty miles away here in London. With the beautiful and dangerous Macallan twins.

Chapter 6

It had made sense to travel up to Scotland in her old Golf, because it had allowed her to fit in an afternoon visit to her parents in Yorkshire en route. It had been lovely as usual, her mum fussing over her like she was still five years old, and what had made it even better was that she had caught her dad on one of his good days, a day when he could remember both her name and who she was. Naturally they had been disappointed not to see their adored grandson, but it was already half way through the Autumn term, and with all the trauma Ollie had been through in the last two years, he needed the solid anchor of school in his life. So he had remained back in Hampstead under the care of their treasured nanny Marta, and could look forward to staying up late, watching inappropriate TV, and stopping off at the corner-shop for sweets on the way home from school. In fact, Maggie doubted if he would miss his mummy at all, but in any case she only intended to be away for one night, a punishing schedule that would involve a four-hundred and fifty-mile slog back to London when her business in Lochmorehead was complete.

The little hotel was splendid, old-fashioned but cosy and comfortable, and furthermore she had been allocated a room with a stunning view of the loch. It was close to eight o' clock when she'd arrived, the setting sun blasting a beam of shimmering purple through a gap in the mountains, the reflected hues dancing on the water surface. It was a magical landscape, which made it all the more difficult to reconcile with Jimmy's description of it. The damn place is cursed I tell you. But maybe Mrs Alison Macallan would be able to shed light on that when they met later that morning. After a hearty cooked breakfast of course.

'Full Scottish madam?' She had ordered the heart-attack inducing feast without thinking, but now that the elderly waitress was preparing to place it in front of her, she was beginning to have second thoughts. The fact that it had had to be wheeled out on a trolley rather than carried in on a tray was a pointer to its wholesomeness.

'Yes please,' she said, the arresting aroma rising up from the platter instantly blowing away her reservations.

'I'll just bring you your toast madam. Back in a moment.'

Maggie gave a grunt of acknowledgment through a mouthful of sausage, before turning her thoughts to the morning ahead. The objective with regard to Mrs Alison Macallan was relatively clear, but the chances of the mission being successful were rather harder to calculate. Asvina had said Mrs Macallan was very bitter about the way she had been treated by her husband, and Maggie knew from her own personal story how difficult that often made it to approach a situation rationally. When the motive escalated from justice to revenge, that's when it was most difficult in her experience, but with Alison's husband dead more than six months, and that death being so tragic, maybe her bitterness would have dissipated somewhat. She wouldn't have long to wait before she found out.

But now she had to admit to herself that Alison Macallan wasn't the only reason she had decided it should be her and not Jimmy who made the gruelling trip northwards. In fact, she wasn't even the main reason. The friendly waitress had now returned with her toast and Maggie smiled up at her.

'Excuse me, but is there an outdoor store nearby? You know, where I can get some hill-walking gear. And also, is there a doctor's surgery?'

The waitress smiled. 'Yes madam, there's Active Outdoors just a couple of miles along the road, heading up towards the Rest and Be Thankful. Out of the car-park and then turn right and then it's on the left, you can't miss it. They've got a good range